


Utterly Unimportant

by inheritanceofgeek



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, F/M, Fluff, Honeymoon, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek/pseuds/inheritanceofgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Fíli of wales, Duke of Sarehole and the newly anointed Princess Sigrid of Wales, Duchess of Sarehole decide to honeymoon in the Highlands of Scotland, where they hope to avoid all press interruptions and seek to just relax and be completely unimportant for the whole time, whilst they still can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Utterly Unimportant

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me one night after discussing some stuff with someone and the plot bunny wouldn't go away until I wrote it! 
> 
> I just loved the idea of these two people with all this money and power just going camping and having a simple time where they just have each other to hug and hold and lazy morning kisses and hot chocolate and ack! There's enough angst in the canon just give me fluff <3
> 
> Thanks to Sadieb798 for the Beta and for helping me choose a title. You are wonderful and thank you for consenting to let me tempt you into the Fígrid Incinerator!

“Tell me again why we decided to honeymoon in the highlands in autumn?” asked Sigrid, huddling closer to her new husband. Husband. The word felt so right. Fíli Durinson, beloved and adored by anyone who’d ever met him; award winning jewellery designer Fíli Durinson-- Fíli Durinson officially the hottest royal as voted by the readership of Hello! Magazine that very year. And she was the one who had the pleasure of seeing him wrapped up in a big puffy coat with a Hufflepuff scarf and a beanie from his Uni’s rugby team.

 

“Because, my Duchess,” Sigrid pulled a face at her new title, being the daughter of an MP was bad enough--being royalty was even more embarrassing. In fact, she’d almost said no when he’d asked her to marry him because of it. “You said you missed all those camping holidays you used to go on before Da got elected, and I haven’t been in the highlands since Dad died, due to Thorin being an overprotective twat.” He laughed, pulling her closer and opening up his jacket so as he could wrap it around her as well.

 

“I know, I know,” She sighed. “And the press wouldn’t think to look for us here, not when everyone was convinced we were off in Southern France sun-bathing and being _warm_.”

 

“Hey, that was your idea in the first place! Sending those look-a-likes was a stroke of genius, by the way.”

 

“I can’t believe I already had people impersonating me!” She shook her head in amazement “I mean, we’d only been properly public for three months before the wedding. How quick were they to jump on it? Also why?”

 

“I ask myself the same question every day!” Laughed Fíli, looking up at her adoringly as they stood huddled together next to their unpitched tent. “Have I mentioned how thankful I am for you agreeing to marry me and put up with all this stupidity?”

 

“Yes, but you could do with saying it again.” She laughed, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

 

“Thank you for marrying me.” He smiled, leaning up to place a kiss on her lips. “We should probably make a move on putting up this tent though,” he said, glancing down at the tent bag that sat upon the floor, a groundsheet preventing it from getting too wet. “It looks like it’s about to start pissing it down.”

 

It had been drizzling all day and they were already damp from it, but it did look like that was all about to change. There were grey storm clouds gathering around them, and a herd of nearby highland cows were beginning to sit down underneath a tree in their field; their hairy faces turned towards them in mild curiosity.

 

“I guess you’re right,” Sigrid replied, extracting herself from his embrace and zipping his coat back up for him. “It has to be said: it becomes a heck of a lot easier to go camping when your husband owns half of Scotland and you can just put your tent up whether you fancy.”

 

“Technically Thorin owns half of Scotland. But yeah, it does make life simpler when you can get him to sign the permit in person, rather than spending three years waiting for it to get processed.”

 

When they’d first begun the holiday, even though they’d practiced in the garden (though she wasn’t really sure it counted as a garden when it contained an actual lake) it had taken them what felt like an age to put it up. However, they now had it down to an art, putting up the series of interlocking poles and hooking up the guy lines in ten minutes.

 

Of course, they’d still ended up getting caught in the rain--it was Sod’s Law after all, but at least they weren't completely drenched, and they’d been able to fling their backpacks into the inner lining of the tent before they’d gotten wet through.

 

They huddled together underneath blankets inside their sleeping bags as they listened to the drumming of the rain on the tent. Sigrid slipped down lower in her bag, nestling her head against Fíli’s shoulder and closing her eyes. She had always loved the sound of rain on canvass, but found it infinitely all the more pleasing when she had someone to share it with.

 

As night drew in, Fíli broke out a flask of hot chocolate whilst Sigrid unearthed a flask of rum and a bar of Dairy Milk. “First thing you learn in Senior Section,” she explained, referring to her time in the Girlguides, “never go camping without chocolate and booze.”

 

“They didn’t teach us that one in cadets,” laughed Fíli, holding out a mug for her to pour the rum into.

 

“Well, that’s clearly the difference between the army and the spy network.” She winked taking a sip of the drink.

 

“Hey!” cried Fíli, wagging his finger at her. “Guides were only trained as spies during World War Two! You’ve nothing to do with it nowadays!”

 

“And how would you know that?” She asked coyly.  

 

“Because I’m the future King, and they tend to tell me these things.”

 

“No they don’t,” she said simply. “And if I told you how I know that, then I’d have to kill you.” She winked.

 

“Ha!” Said Fíli, “I’d like to see you try! You know they always look to the wife first.”

 

“Ah yes, but haven’t you heard? We’re in the South of France at the moment! Nobody would find you for a long time.”

 

“Well then. I guess I’d best not ask you any more. But I’ll check with Dwalin when we get back,” he said, jostling her with his shoulder. “There’s nothing that goes down in the Royal Household without him knowing about it.”

 

“Well, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” She said, edging closer to him, a smirk plastered across her face.

 

“We will.” He counted, grinning back at her before placing a kiss on her lips, tasting the rum and chocolate that still lingered there. His tongue chased the flavours across them, and Sigrid’s own darted out to meet his in an attempt to extract as many contented hums as possible.

 

They broke out their dinner after that; a combination of tinned food purchased from a village shop with a side order to crisps, with yet more of the chocolate for pudding.

 

“I’m surprised nobody in that shop recognised us,” said Sigrid, dipping into her fruit cocktail.

 

“Well I guess we must look quite different to how they’re used to seeing us. I mean neither of us has had a proper shower in six days, and our hiking gear isn’t exactly designed by Gucchi.”

 

“Fíli, they had a picture of your family on their wall!”

 

“Yeah, well, that pictures from the nineties--I didn’t have a beard then.”

 

Sigrid laughed. “Of course, the mysterious powers of a beard. I forget how much it can distort an appearance.”

 

“I always thought you’d look good with one,” said Fíli in mock seriousness.

 

“Careful Durinson, or I’ll snatch yours right off.” She warned, setting down her tin.

 

“Bring it Bowman,” laughed her husband, setting down his.

 

Sigrid launched herself across the tent and started to tickle him right under the chin where she knew he was most vulnerable. The pair of them laughed and squealed as they rolled around in the tent. Suddenly Sigrid’s happy high pitched squeals turned into a shriek of distress, as Fíli rolled her towards the side of the tent. They’d quite forgotten about the rain, and Sigrid had found herself trapped against the side of the tent, her entire back plastered against it as the rain soaked outer made contact with her, soaking her in the freezing cold water.

 

She pushed herself forward and landed on top of Fíli, knocking the wind out of him. “You’ll pay for that one!” She cried, as she hastily removed the sodden clothing before she caught her death.

 

“I certainly hope so.” He smirked, as he leant back and admired the sight of his wife stripping herself of her moist fleece and thermal.

 

Sigrid wrung out her jacket onto Fíli’s head, a look of triumph on her face as he spluttered up at her.

 

“I deserved that,” He admitted, his blonde tresses plastered to his face.

 

“Yes, you did,” She smirked, bending down over him and kissing him anyway. “Though I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

 

“My lady, it would be my pleasure.” He said, flipping her onto her back, and kissing her newly bared stomach.

 

When dawn broke the next day, all the evening’s transgressions had been truly forgiven, and the honeymooners lay underneath their blankets, sleeping bags joined together so as they could hold one another closer. Fíli had a way of expelling heat that meant he acted as a perfect hot water bottle for Sigrid, and in turn Sigrid helped to prevent his warmth from escaping entirely.

 

They were awoken by the crying of birds, and the pair stirred together, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

 

“Morning husband,” smiled Sigrid, looking softly into his ocean blue eyes.

 

“Morning wife,” He replied, leaning up and pressing a brief kiss to the tip of her nose.

 

They lay there for a while, simply enjoying the sound of the birds and the warmth of the tent; the early morning sunshine helping to dry it out.

 

With great effort, they clambered out of their tent, keen to pack it away whilst it was still relatively dry. When they got out though, they heard the distinctive noise of a clicking camera. Fíli had been trained to hear the noise from an early age, and instinctively placed himself in front of Sigrid so as to shield her from the journalist who’d no doubt paid someone to find out where they were. He’d have to get Dwalin to look into that one for him.

 

“Look!” Cried the photographer, who was dressed in mossy greens and practical waterproofs.

 

“You’re not welcome here,” said Fíli.

 

“We told you, we want our privacy!” Growled Sigrid, stepping aside from Fíli and beginning to walk up the hill towards them, her eyes blazing with fire. This wouldn't be the first person who’d had their SD Card wiped clean, and they wouldn't be the last.

 

“No! Look up!” They called again, pointing at the sky. Fíli and Sigrid paused and looked up. Two great golden eagles were soaring ahead, riding the air currents in search of breakfast. Sigrid let out a sigh of awe and pulled Fíli in close beside her.

 

“Eagles,” She breathed. “Look Fí, the eagles are here!” she whispered.

 

“I can see, my songbird.” He smiled. “I can see.”

 

The pair of them watched the eagles as they soared throughout the sky, too awed to go and fetch the camera from their tent. The photographer clicked away behind them, and for once they felt like a normal couple out camping, where neither man nor nature saw them as anything noteworthy. They felt utterly unimportant, and they could not have asked for a better wedding present.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What I said about GirlGuides is true! They were going to train boy scouts but found that they weren't trustworthy enough. 
> 
> It is also true that if you're camping with a Guide over the age of 17, she will most likely have a bottle of wine and some dairy milk stored away in her backpack. And if she's under that then it'll be hot chocolate and haribo. As a former Committee Member for my Uni's SSAGO (Student Scout and Guide Organisation) I can confirm this as 100% true.
> 
> EDIT:
> 
> I found out that apparently you don't need a permit to camp in Scotland! So um, just consider this an AU of the real world as well where you just need a permit that covers the whole of Scotland. I'm allowed a little inaccuracy, right?


End file.
